Seattlest Pix 09Nov24
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Editor's Note: Earlier this year, Seattlest Clint's favorite coffee shop was shuttered. What followed was a series of indignities that should chill the heart of any coffee-loving Seattleite. By which we mean, any Seattleite. We present Clint's harrowing story in five parts. Here are Parts I and II.
Our incorrigibly responsible girlfriend—and carpool mate—cannot be late to work. Not by 30 seconds. If she's late, she'll miss her daily, five minute, strike-of-eight meeting, and she'll feel out of the loop. And guilty. And the entire day will be ruined.
So on mornings when we hit snooze one time too many—fuck! why?—we're automatically screwed out of hitting Ladro or Zingarro on the way to work. (These are our only convenient choices on Queen Anne's south slope since the Metro Market people muscled Peet's out of their new Uptown store.) Making a pot and filling the travel mugs is our only option. But there are obstacles and complications that, more often than not, blow our chance at home-brewed Peet's. So then the fucking day's ruined anyway, and we feel guilty.
Because work coffee is then the only coffee we'll have the dubious pleasure of drinking. You know work coffee: It smells like burnt cardboard, comes in exclusive shades of beige and charcoal, and is either thinner than water or thick as sludge. With work coffee, you're at the mercy of whatever jackass blearily dumps six cups (or six teaspoons) of stale grounds into the basket and flicks the switch on that curious automatic water system. (Is that water cold? Is it filtered? Where does it come from?) And you can't just dump the stuff if it looks/smells awful. Someone will walk in and catch you, and shit, now you're being called a Coffee Nazi.
Our office used to be serviced by Van Houtte. We'd never heard of it before seeing the crusty sticker on the kitchen coffeemaker—or the sign at a Chevron on 99 North. "Since 1919," our ass. Even the right grounds/water ratio produced that bitter rest-stop liquid that, given the early and desperate hour, you accept with a sour grin. Now the office beans are of the previously ground, stashed-in-the-supply-closet-for-months, Starbucks House variety. A roast that, if not used liberally, produces a nasty cup of brown water. But sure, a step in the right direction.
We're considering dropping a bribe on our facilities guy: Upgrade the coffee service, and we'll cut you in on what we make writing about the beverage. (If we're going to bribe, why not lie?) People would appreciate actual flavor and aroma, we'd tell him. It'd improve morale and productivity. But we already know what would happen if he came through: We'd know that there was excellent coffee at work, so we'd hit the goddamn snooze button again, and every day would be ruined.
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Have you tried Folger's Crystals? They're awesome. Plus you can spend the thousands of dollars you save every year on something more useful, like ANYTHING YOU SNOBS!